Song to Save a Life
by Clumsy Bedo
Summary: She is a carefree girl. He is trouble(d). Opposites attract. Will they lean on or destroy each other? Follow Edward on this lifelong journey, through crazy family dinners, meaningful and meaningless relationships, hardships and so much more. Warning: Deals with mental illness and its impact on life. All Human. Canon Pairing. OOC.
1. Prologue

Do you know how sometimes the world seems to be caving in? How the weight of the world weighs down so heavily on you that you feel the weight press into your shoulders, feel your back bend and feel your knees give out? How even doing the stuff you love the most like watching that one favourite movie does not make you smile, does not even slightly lift the corner of your mouth because it feels too exhausting? How meeting up with friends feels so tiring and daunting that you keep cancelling on them until no one asks whether you want to grab a coffee anymore? How you realise that your family never calls you because you're always the one calling them and then talking their ears off until they find a reason to end the call? How even in a room full of people you feel so lonely that this awareness slowly closes your throat up, squeezes your chest and suffocates you? How the voice inside your head tells you these malicious lies about how everyone is fed up with you and your antics, how no one wants to hear how your day has been, how no one really cares about what's happening to you? How it feels to wish that all of these thoughts would just stop and you could start liking yourself instead of keep walking on this self-destructive path that slowly but steadily kills your soul inch by inch?

Well, that's what it feels like to me. Maybe someone else feels it differently, affects it differently. This darkness. This nothingness. This blanket of inherent loneliness. This crushing weight that pushes you into the ground until you don't have the strength anymore to get up again.

This is what my depression feels like. (There, I said that word that everyone seems to be so afraid of.) How it affects me. (At least most of the time because sometimes it manifests differently. But that's another story.)

And people keep saying that you just have to work harder and believe in yourself to overcome this illness. That you just have to smile and your brain will automatically release the happy hormones. That the world is not as bad as you keep picturing it. I wish it was that easy. If the voice inside your head keeps telling you that your worthless and that you will never achieve anything, never have any meaningful relationships, that people only interact with you because they want something from you – or worse – because they have to, like your colleagues and your family, how are you supposed to believe in yourself? How are you supposed to build the confidence to withstand this monster in your head that keeps on tearing these fleeting attemps down every chance it gets? You should just smile and the rest is biology, right? You can smile an entire day and the only thing you will feel afterwards are not the endorphins rushing through your body but rather your facial muscles hurting from the make believe, from the mask you're putting on as soon as you have to interact with people. Make believing other people that nothing is wrong with you, that you are not having a mental crisis that brings you to your knees, that everything is just peachy. And how could you picture a better world when you keep running in circles, keep running into your self-fulfilling prophecies of loneliness and isolation?

Don't you think that at the beginning I didn't see everything so gloomy, so dark? That maybe my experiences have shaped me and my opinion; made me a realist. No. That's a lie. I keep telling people that I only think realistically when in reality even I can see that I am pessimistic. Why I lie? Because it's easier to accommodate what I say then to explain why I see it that way. People don't want to have to deal with depressed people and their view of the world because they think that they have an obligation to make this person feel better somehow. It's depressing, really. I mean I wouldn't want to have to deal with it if I was not already patient D. I get it. So that's why I lie. I don't want to stress people, don't want them doing or saying things just to make me feel better without meaning any of it. Or is this just the voice inside my head, manipulating me so I won't reach for an offered hand when I feel myself going under again? When you can't even trust your own mind then who do you trust? It's mindboggling and sometimes it feels like pressing a self-destruction button like in these old movies. 10, 9, 8,…

But why do I write this? Why do I somehow force you to read this, to deal with this matter?

Because there are many people like me who stay face- and voiceless in this world, who suffer just the same and maybe after reading my story you will see the signs and be able to read them, to help the person displaying them. Or maybe you feel similar and see that you're not alone in this; that there are other people who suffer like you; that maybe life is not as miserable and that maybe there can be a silver lining. Or maybe you will read it and see it as an angst-ridden story of a self-centred kid who thinks that their suffering is so important that others must read about it. Really, it's your own choice how you want to read this or what you want to take out of it.

But yeah, I also write this for purely selfish reasons. I need to get this off my chest. I need someone else to see life through my eyes, to understand why the things happened the way they happened.

So, it all began even before I was born…

 **AN: Woah. Hello there. I had this plot ghosting around in my head for… seven years now. And yes, this is going to be a depressing, angsty story with some comic relief (I hope). And yes, I know what depression feels like because I have been suffering from depression for the past 13 years. But as I also stated in the story, every person might feel the effects of depression differently. Please look for help if you're feeling depressed and don't know what to do about it. It's hard to ask for help but there are many people out there.**

 **Something less angsty: I need someone to proofread and maybe to look for plot holes and stuff. So if you would like to work with me and this dark but honest story please contact me. I would really appreciate it.**

 **Your Clumsy Bedo (gosh I should maybe change my alias)**


	2. Chapter 1: The Start, Really

The story began roughly 30 years ago when a man met a woman too irresistible to not try to throw his hat in the ring for her. She was a mesmerising woman with fiery curly red hair and eyes the colour of a vibrant forest. He did not notice her immediately the first time he met her.

They were at a banquet held by the firm he was currently working for some time around Christmas. Looking back, he remembers that he was in deep conversations with a few of his colleagues (although he could not recall what they talked about, just that they had fun and laughed a lot). Jimmy from Accounting was just recounting some story when they heard a loud crash rather close to them.

All the guys turned around to see what had caused the ruckus and were instantly faced with a very misplaced heated standoff between a woman and a man. Obviously, one of them had thrown a glass filled with champagne on the floor. Why Ed knew it was thrown, he just instinctually knew by the stance of the tense couple that it was probably on purpose and not out of clumsiness that the champagne decorated the floor with glass fragments.

"No! No, I'm not going to be quiet," screamed the woman, obviously enraged about something the guy had done or said.

"Well, this is neither the place nor the time for this matter to be discussed," replied the guy in the awfully expensive suit in a rather calm manner. He made a hand gesture toward the closed double doors, "stop making a scene about nothing. We will talk later about this when I'm home and there you can act as melodramatic as you wish, even throw a plate or two. I don't care. But I want you to get your coat now and head home."

With that closing statement, the guy crossed his arms and impatiently tapped his foot, obviously thinking he had said enough and that the woman should act accordingly, while the woman looked shocked, open mouth and disbelieving expression included. But that lasted for only a short moment. Her face twisted into a menacing grin and she lifted her chin at that guy as if to say 'Buckle up. You want a fight, you'll get a fight.' She mirrored his action and crossed her arms over her ample chest which was already put into every red-blooded males focus in that tight fitting green dress she was wearing.

Ed and his colleagues (really all his colleagues, not only the guys standing close to him) were watching this drama unfolding in front of them with rapt attention. And Ed kept thinking that he had yet to meet a woman who was so intimidating in her anger and at the same time so glorious without appearing haughty in the least.

In the corner of his eye, he could see his colleagues appraise her as well and simultaneously all of them took an unconscious step back, holding something in front of their manhood. This woman was out for blood and not one of them wanted to be caught in the crossfire this guy had obviously caused. Let him be shot. He surely deserved it by the looks of it and if not… well, they would surely not try to save him.

"I am not your little wifey who stands at your beck and call and is told how she has to act in public. Call her if you want the Stepford wife primped to the nines, only smiling and talking when you allow her to. But no, Christopher, you wanted me to come with you because you wanted to impress the bosses with some eye candy, showing them that even with your receding and greying hairline," she was gesturing at his head, "you could have women like me running after you."

At this point, she huffed a laugh so degrading that even Ed felt his respect shrink for this "Christopher" guy whom he had yet to officially meet at the firm. She slowly shook her head and grinned devilishly at him.

"If you think for even a second that I had this affair with you because I found you attractive, you're sorely mistaking. I just didn't want to put in the effort for a better guy. You were fine for the time being, although the sex was mediocre at best, but now you're out of your mind if you think that I'm letting myself be bullied into acting all devote and smitten. That's not worth the effort."

This time, she made a dismissive hand gesture, "I will get my coat and head home, but don't you dare follow me or come by later. If you don't respect my wish, something will be thrown but it will be something much sharper and more intrusive than a fucking plate."

And with that she swiftly turned around and headed for the door leaving "Christopher" stunned, open mouthed and utterly embarrassed in front of his colleagues and bosses. But before she stepped through the doors she paused and turned her head in his direction one last time, "don't bother ever calling me again. This was not even fun while it lasted." And out she went.

Ed slowly shook his head in disbelieve. What a woman. He had already lost interest in the guy, not bothering to look at him and see how he reacted to these departing words. That guy had seriously screwed up; but her, he wanted to meet her and get to know her. Simultaneously, his inner voice voted against going after her because, hello, did you not see what just happened? She just handed a guy his crown jewels on a platter in front of his entire firm and she seemed to enjoy it as well. It was not the sane decision to want that, but she was just that captivating to him.

So, without really making a conscious decision, he excused himself from his colleagues who stood there, either still astounded or already whispering to each other about what had happened in front of them. They barely noticed Ed leave and go through the same doors as the verbally man slaughtering woman.

When he stepped out into the cold air of the parking lot in front of the firm, he saw a cab just taking off. He jogged a few steps after it but slowed to a stop after a couple of seconds of his futile attempt to catch up to the cab. He saw her shaking her head in the rear window of the cab and kept watching her disappear in the distance.

 **AN: My muse kissed me and I was actually pretty fast with this chapter. I hope you enjoy it. Not so dark this time.**

 **Please tell me what you think. Praise or criticise, give me some kind of feedback (:**

 **Your Bedo**


	3. Chapter 2: It Must Be Fate, Right?

"I would like to have a coffee," I ordered, already looking for money to pay the coffee with.

"With cream and sugar?"

"Nah, thank you, I'll take it as black as I can get it," I laughed at the lady behind the counter. She nodded unimpressed, her blonde perm nodding as well, turned around and started to prepare my order. I stepped aside to let the next customer order and compiled my to-do list for the day. Esme would definitely want me to get something to eat for the family after work so I would have to leave Fitzgerald's at 4 p.m. in order to get to the supermarket that has that one brand of ice cream Es was craving so much lately.

I was smiling absentmindedly while I thought about my very pregnant wife who was currently carrying our little boy. Gosh, how proud I had been when she told me that this time it would be a boy. She was absolutely sure of it and since she had been right the last two times, I saw it as a given that she would be right yet again.

"I would like to have a coffee."

I looked up and at the person who had just given her order. My stream of consciousness screeched to a halt. I blinked several times and I'm pretty sure that my mouth must have dropped open. I must have looked like a guppy that had landed on the ground gasping for air. To this day, I cannot recall why I acted in such a way but it sure got her attention.

One eyebrow rose. "Do I know you?" she asked defensively, already scrutinising me and probably trying to figure out whether I am a danger or simply demented.

I shook my head – and hopefully my guppy rendition from my face –, "N-n-no. I… I'm sorry."

She huffed impatiently and rolled her eyes at that. "Then stop staring already."

"I… I'm really sorry," I quickly looked away. I felt the tips of my ears heat up. "I did not want to make you uncomfortable. I just-" No, I could not tell her that I remembered her from that banquet a few years back. That was a definite no.

"You just what?" She turned to me and crossed her arms over her chest. This time her breasts were not framed by an appealing green colour but rather a white blouse. Not much better for my blood pressure, mind you.

Thankfully, the coffee lady interrupted her questioning. "Your coffees." She placed the cups on the counter and looked at the next customer behind the red-headed woman who grabbed her coffee, stepped out of the way and looked at me expectantly. I tentatively reached for mine and quickly gulped down some of it, secretly wishing it would burn my tongue and throat so that I would stop putting my foot in my mouth.

When I glanced in her direction, I saw her still standing there seeming more aggravated by the second. "So?" She nodded her head in my direction, obviously not giving up before she had an answer.

Come on, think of something, Ed. I just- saw someone doing a flic flac behind her, outside, through the glass-front of the coffee shop. No. I just saw that she had some kind of symptom for a disease like a mole or something. Ew. What the fuck am I thinking. I am not a doctor and do not know jackshit about illnesses and symptoms. Also, this would be beyond creepy. Well, looks like the truth has to do.

I dropped my gaze to the floor and felt the heat travel to my cheeks now too. Great. "I just," I sighed, "remembered you from a party at my firm a couple years back."

Quickly, I chanced a glance at her expression. Thoroughly confused. Great. "What firm?"

"Peter and McLaughlan. Around Christmas. We didn't talk to each other or anything."

She obviously tried to remember so I added, "Ahm… you left pretty spectacularly if I remember correctly." I quickly dropped my gaze again and took a sip from my cup.

"Oh. Yeah, I think I remember." I saw her slowly nodding her head in my periphery. "But I don't remember seeing you there. I'm normally good with faces."

I gave her an unsure smile and shrugged. "Nobody introduced us, I guess."

She looked me over before she smiled brightly at me. "Beth," she held out her hand.

I must have done the guppy impression again by the way she was looking at me. I shook my head, smiled and reached for her hand to shake it, "Ed."

"Nice to finally meet you, Ed."

Her smile widened causing dimples to form on both her cheeks and there was this twinkle in her eyes.

That smile was going to be my death I was sure of that.

 **AN: Sorry for the wait but I just had as small writer's block. I hope you enjoyed the chapter. I'm already working on the next one.**

 **I also decided to write this story down in "one go" basically. Means you get the first draft here. I already found some things to tweak in the first two chapters that are okay but that I probably could do that better. But I want to finish this first and see if a re-write is in the future or the reaction was way too underwhelming. The decision will be made at the end of this ride.**

 **I don't know how long this will take but I have the plot in my head and I know where I want this to go. I just don't know how often I need to get off-track to form a well-rounded story. We'll see.**

 **I still have no beta reader so please don't shoot me for the mistakes you find. Simply message me and I will correct them in the next draft.**

 **See you hopefully soon in this theatre,**

ClumsyBedo


	4. Chapter 3: To Ride along with You

When I met Ed five months ago in that small coffee shop, I first thought he was some creepy guy leering at my tits. As soon as I called him out on his strange behaviour, he became so red that his face reminded me of a ripe tomato. That alone told me that he was normally not leering at unsuspecting women and that he was probably not the most confident guy all-around. I pitied him a little but not enough to give him a break.

After his murmuring had finally given me the answer I wanted I was flummoxed. He remembered me from that god-awful shindig that guy – what was his name… - took me to. I had had a couple of drinks as far as I remembered and, at some point, I must have said something that embarrassed my flavour of the month. I tried to reach back into my memory but, well, I guess it had been enough champagne to erase that one. I shrugged internally and studied the guy before me.

He was attractive, even with the tomato face. He had brown hair that fell messily over his forehead. It was just the right length to hold onto while I fucked the ever-loving shit out of him. His jaw was strong and, along with the stubble I could see, gave him just the right amount of masculinity. His nose was straight and not too big. I hated to look at a guy's profile and be reminded of some kind of bird with a huge beak. His eyes were a stunning blue that unintentionally entrapped you. And they shone bright with honesty – and embarrassment. All around it was a face that I wouldn't mind sitting on, I mused.

I smiled at my thoughts and stretched out my hand. "Beth."

He looked utterly confused. Poor guy did not know what had hit him. He shook his head and tentatively took my hand and shook it. "Ed." He smiled. It was a cute smile. I almost felt bad for him. Almost.

"Nice to finally meet you, Ed." I smiled widely at him. I decided not to use my full arsenal of skills, I did not want him to run for the hills. Plus, I had a feeling that I had to tone it down a bit for him. If my smile already got him so flustered, could you imagine what my bedroom eyes and smirk would do to him? Yeah, people had told me that this smile could get me anything. And I had set my sight on him. Like I said, I almost felt bad for him. He really didn't stand a chance.

After five months of getting to know him - getting to know him on an even more personal level, I genuinely started to like him. Not only for the sex. Do not get me wrong. I enjoyed our times together greatly.

You know how they say that fat guys are more satisfying for the woman because they make an actual effort to satisfy the woman? Well, shy guys are almost as good. Especially, when they have a wife, two kids and a baby at home. They are starved for attention and satisfaction. I know you would say I am a home wrecker but I'm not. I do not want him to leave his family, I just want some fun and orgasms out of this guy and then he can turn his attention back to his family.

We talked a bit about his family the first couple of times we met - before we had sex mind you - because he was feeling oh so conflicted. On one hand he loved his wife and was so grateful for her patience and giving him his kids and bla, on the other he was nearly consumed from the need to be with me. I told him if he felt that way, maybe we should not meet up anymore – you know, so he wouldn't give into temptation - but that only got him all flustered and stammering that he did not want that. I heard my trap snap shut in that moment. Poor guy. His hormones were doing a number on him. Okay, maybe I played a not so small part as well. His wifey hadn't wanted sex for the last three months of her pregnancy and ever since she had their third child.

I felt a little sorry for her. It was not her fault that her man could not keep it in his pants but sometimes hormones lead them like a general into war. No questions asked, just following the orders. And I was there to reap the benefits. And reap I did.

It was about two months ago, that baby of theirs had been a couple weeks old - and had not stopped screaming ever since it seemed -, Ed came to me because he did not know where to turn to. His parents lived in Europe, her parents scrutinised him every step of the way, judging him for every decision, waiting for him to make a mistake; his friends had heard already enough of his problems, how he did not know how to help his wife, how to make that baby of theirs stop crying, how to cope with the stress from work on top of it. And his wife, well, she seemed to only see the baby, according to him. He had called me once from home when they were having a particular bad fight. He had wanted to ask her parents to babysit for the evening so they could go out, have dinner somewhere and just get do something as a couple. She had not been happy. She had yelled at him. I heard her through the phone. I would not have been happy with my husband either, but I would never let anyone bring me into such a situation.

I did not want any children of my own, ever. I was perfectly fine on my own. I did not need a husband and a house full of screaming children that broke stuff and only turned everything dirty. No. Just not for me. My parents had been disappointed. My mother had even cried. It was my life, not hers. I had shrugged and told her to live with my decision. It was not the 19th century anymore. I could be an independent woman without being shunned from society. Anyway. Since then I had held the barest minimum of contact with my parents.

I caressed his soft hair with my fingers, scratching his scalp. He moaned in his sleep. Poor guy had been exhausted when he had knocked on my door and then I had to go and ravage him as well. No wonder he was out for the count. I studied his sleeping face.

He looked older. A week ago, I had seen a grey hair in his beard and made fun of him. How he was five years older than me and I was giving him grey hair from all the exercise I gave him in the last two months. At first, he had been embarrassed but after a few seconds he had laughed along with me. He had a wonderful laugh, deep, rich, so honest – if you don't count the fact that he was cheating on his wife with me. I started to notice the first lines around his eyes. I leaned over him and followed them with my fingertips.

My gaze wandered down over his chin, down to his broad muscled shoulders, across his flat abdomen that formed that delicious V at the end. When I had enough, my eyes zoomed in on his member. He was well endowed, not too thick, not too long, with a slight bend to the right, hitting my spot with nearly every time. The first time he had hit my g-spot again and again until I saw stars and screamed my lungs out, I truly thought it was accidental and he could not repeat that. Well, I stood happily corrected.

Ed was actually a bit special in my little black book of booty calls. I sincerely enjoyed sucking him off. In the past I had only done it so the guy would finally eat my pussy; but Ed had done that anyway. Sometimes my mouth watered when I was in the right mood and looked at his cock. Lucky him. Not that he didn't repay me that favour every chance he got.

I began to place gentle kisses on his torso, following his happy trail and eventually reaching my goal. However, the second I wanted to take his cock into my mouth a wave of nausea hit me. I clapped my hand over my mouth and sprinted to my bathroom, nearly missing the toilet. For the first time, I thanked God that Ed forgot to put the toilet seat down. In that case it would not have been pretty.

I continued to heave a couple times, feeling my stomach cramp, trying to catch my breath. After a couple seconds, I felt one hand gently gather my hair while the other stroked my back.

"Shall I get you some crackers and something to drink?"

I shuddered at the thought. "No."

"Okay."

The hands disappeared. Seconds later I felt my bathrobe being draped over me and the stroking resumed. I glanced at him. He looked absentmindedly at the tiles across from us, humming something. He had put on a t-shirt and his boxer shorts.

When I was sure that my stomach had given up on his war against me, I slowly stood up. His hand fell away and his gaze wandered toward me. He seemed to be in deep thought.

"I'm going to take a shower," I informed him and let my bathrobe drop to the floor. I turned the shower on and held my hand under the spray of water until it was warm enough to get in. Ed did not join me. In fact, when I got out of the shower and started to brush my teeth, he was not even in the bathroom. I briefly wondered if he had left but when I came out of the bathroom I found him sitting on my bed with his head in his hands.

As soon as he realised my presence he lifted his head and studied me. "Are you feeling better?"

I nodded. I felt a little woozy but nothing to worry about.

"Good," he nodded, "I have made you some tea." He pointed to my small table beside my bed.

"Thank you."

I headed over there and took a sip from the cup. It was not too hot and I tasted a hint of honey, exactly the way I loved my tea.

When I turned my attention back to him, I saw him still looking at me. I raised one eyebrow, silently questioning his staring. He sighed and let his head drop into his hands again. "Has this happened before?"

I knit my brows. "No. Why?"

He let his hands fall away and studied my floor closely. "Because…" he took a deep breath, "could-" He stopped and shook his head. He threw his head back and looked at the ceiling before scrunching his eyes shut, "Could it be that you're pregnant?"

I stared at him dumbfounded. What. The. Fuck. "No."

He opened his eyes and looked at me, a little ashen. "You're a hundred percent sure or you hope you're not?"

I shook my head. "We used condoms. Every time. I'm a hundred percent sure."

He sighed again. This was slowly getting on my nerves. I crossed my arms and jutted one side of my hip out. "Condoms aren't a hundred percent safe."

I frowned and fixed him with a glare. "I know that."

After a couple of seconds, he dropped his gaze to the floor. "So, you cannot be a hundred percent sure whether you're pregnant or not."

"Ed, what the fuck. I probably ate something wrong or I'm coming down with the flu or something. I'm not pregnant. Don't even think that," I replied haughtily.

His hands grabbed his hair and he started to tuck on it. "I know but I just have this weird feeling. The same weird feeling I got every time Es got sick because of a pregnancy."

"So, you're telling me you're psychic?!" I laughed angrily. "Don't be stupid. You couldn't have known. You're just making this up." I looked out the window and chewed on the inside of my cheek.

He sighed yet again. I felt my eyelid twitch. "Would it hurt you if you took a test? Just for me and my sanity?"

I shrugged nonchalantly. "I guess. If you insist." I turned toward him. "But I'm telling you, I'm not pregnant."

He studied me for a second. "Just to be on the safe side, alright?"

"Whatever," I huffed. I studied him for a minute. He looked lost. My stubbornness forbade me to go to him and reassure him, instead I grabbed the cup and drank the rest of my tea.

"I'm sorry that I cannot let this go but I just want to be sure, okay?" He looked pained.

"I already agreed, did I not?"

He held my gaze for a moment then nodded. "Thank you."

I shrugged and started to strip out of my clothes. "I'm tired. Are you staying or heading out?"

He thought about it. "I-, " he hesitated, "what would you prefer?"

I laid down and pulled my blanket over my body, up to my chin. I needed the comfort. Even though I was so sure, I felt anxious. "Stay."

 **AN:** **Next chapter already. I have actually finished the next two chapters as well. So it's going well. Still, I don't know when the next chapter will be up. I hope you enjoy this story so far.**

 **If you have questions or remarks or anything, just leave me a message or a review and I will get back to you (:**

 **-Clumsy Bedo**


	5. Chapter 4: Confessions

I was ready to go home when my office phone rang. I stared at it for a solid minute, figuring that it was not one of my colleagues seeing as I was the only person left in the building besides the security.

I slowly lifted the speaker to my ear. "Masen."

I heard a sigh from the other end. "Ed?"

Just from hearing her say my name in that particular way, I knew. "Yeah?"

I heard a hiccup come from her. "You were right." Now she was full on sobbing. "I don't want you to be right. I-" She sighed, "I don't want this."

My heart skipped a beat. If someone had entered my office at this point, they would have called an ambulance. I was sure that I looked beyond sick.

"I don't want this. I can't. I really can't," she cried.

I didn't know what to tell her; that everything would be alright? That we would take care of it? That she could walk away? I shook my head. No. Even though it was wrong and I shouldn't, I wanted that baby with her. Even though I wouldn't leave my wife for her, I wanted to have that. I was a selfish asshole.

"The doctor said I'm too far along to abort," now she sounded angry. "I told him to go fuck himself and that I would do it myself if I had to." My heart stuttered. She wouldn't, would she? On the other end of the line, I heard something crash. "But I cannot do it! It's going to hurt, I know that," she wailed. "I don't want this thing inside me but the doctor won't get it out!" she screamed.

Gosh, I felt horrible. I couldn't even imagine how she felt at that moment. Some tiny part inside of me hoped that she would come around to the idea, but it was not looking too good.

"Beth?" I heard her sobs and snuffles.

"What?"

"We'll get through this okay?" I wanted to reassure her, give her some kind of perspective but I felt strangely pessimistic and bleak about our future. "Where are you?"

"At home. Drinking some champagne that I bought yesterday to celebrate my not being pregnant today. Look how that turned out," she cackled.

"You're drinking?!" I probably sounded way too harsh, considering the circumstances and all.

"I can do what I fucking want to do," she growled, "and if this thing comes out deformed, I don't care. I'll give it up for adoption as soon as it's out anyway." I gasped. "Let the new parents care for it. I don't care. I just want it gone!"

A part of me felt relieved that she wouldn't do anything too reckless but the other part was horrified that she seemed to not care at all. "I'm coming over."

 **StSaL**

I was feeling drained, so motherfucking tired. Today would go down as the worst day in my entire life. Beth hated me, God, did she hate me. She blamed me for her state. She was not entirely guiltless but I tried to convince her to keep the baby, so I had to give up the last part of my dignity and shoulder the entire blame. As long as my child survives this nightmare.

She had drunken two bottles of champagne by the time I got there. My heart had plummeted to my feet when I had found her unconscious on the floor of her flat. I quickly called Es at home and told her not to wait up for me. She didn't sound surprised. I finally realised that she probably already suspected that something was up. But I couldn't think about this at the time, I had to sober up Beth.

After a couple hours she was closer to being sober than drunk, so I tried my luck. My face still hurt from her slap when my temper slipped and I asked her why the fuck she had drunken alcohol. She would have clawed my eyes out if I had not pinned her hands behind her back and held her to me. She fought, fuck, did she fight me. But at some point, she simply collapsed in my arms and started to cry again. I whispered soothing words into her ear, telling her that everything would be okay, that we would figure a way out of this mess. And we did, eventually.

 **StSaL**

So now I stood in front of my home at 6 a.m. on a Saturday. I slowly walked up the stairs to our front door and used my key to open it. I was on auto-pilot. I did not want to talk with Es about any of this but I had to. I should have talked to her way before everything went so horribly wrong, before I slept with another woman.

When I walked into the kitchen, I saw her sitting at our table, sipping tea. When her tired eyes met mine, I knew that I had fucked up royally.

"You're early," she said tonelessly. "Normally you're not here before 10 a.m. when you've been with her." That one stung. She definitely knew. How, I didn't know, but she did.

I hung my head and nodded slowly. I took a deep breath. "I-"

"If the next words out of your mouth are 'I'm sorry', I will take our children and leave you."

I looked at her, shocked. "I'm-"

"I said-"

I interrupted her. "Okay. Okay." I held my hands up in a silent peace offering. "What do you want me to say?"

"That you will stop this. That you will come home every day from now on. That you will be there for our children and me. That this thing you have is over."

My heart dropped. "I can't."

Her mouth fell open and her eyes swam with unshed tears and hurt. "You can't stop fucking this other woman?!" She stood up and walked toward me. "You can't stop fucking this WHORE?!" She screamed that last part.

I looked around, waiting for one of our children to walk into the room and hearing us fight. "Hush!"

"Hush?!" She laughed manically. "The kids are with my parents. You don't have to play father of the year now. You didn't do that in the past 10 months so why start now?!" She crossed her arms over her chest and looked away. "I don't know why I care. I should just pack our things and move back to my parents."

When the first tears started a trail down her cheeks, I fell to my knees. "I'm so sorry, Es. I know you don't want me to say that but I am. I am so fucking sorry."

I saw her shoulders shake. "But you're not sorry enough to stop, are you?" she replied bitterly.

"I-… I-…"

"You what?!"

I looked at the floor, hoping that it would just swallow me up. I had ruined enough lives, can't I just skip forward and go straight to hell?

"What is it, Ed?! Is the sex that good? Or can you not stand the sight of me after having given birth to your three children? My stretch marks? My saggy breasts? What is it? Tell me, you bastard! Tell me! Because I sure as hell don't know." She looked down at me with so much disgust.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Here goes nothing. "She's pregnant."

You could have heard a pin drop. "She's what?"

When I opened my eyes and looked at my wife, I didn't see the angry woman from a couple seconds ago. I saw a woman, defeated by an unknown rival. "She's pregnant." I sighed. "She went to the doctor yesterday. She was absolutely sure that she wasn't but I insisted."

She looked shell-shocked. "She's pregnant," she whispered. Her eyes refocused, targeting me. "Is it yours?"

I nodded.

"How can you be so sure? For all you know she could fuck half the city." Oh, Esme, I wish.

"No. She told me she only sleeps with one guy."

She looked at me, one of her eyebrows rising high in disbelief.

I groaned. "She told me that when she gets bored of her 'flavour of the month', she simply moves on." I sounded detached and robotic, even to my own ears.

Esme shook her head and sneered. "What a trollop."

I huffed. "Well… yeah."

"So now you two have your lovechild and what? You're leaving us for her and your bastard?" She looked angry but also a little fearful. Esme had grown up in a very Catholic family. I knew she didn't want a divorce, not ever. I knew that even when she said she would leave me. I knew she would never do that.

"You want me to?" I asked quietly, staring at our shining kitchen floor.

"No. You know that, you bastard," she growled. Then she turned on her heel and headed to the living room. "I need to sit down and I need a glass of Brandy."

Even though I had expected her to not actually want to split up it was a huge relief to hear it from her. I closed my eyes for a second and took a deep breath, then I stood up and followed her into the living room. She was busy fixing her drink when I entered. "So what now?" she asked impatiently.

"What do you mean?" I was cautious and a little afraid. I did not want to push my luck.

"Well, your trollop is pregnant with your bastard child. You won't divorce me. So what now? Will you stay in contact with her? Does she even know about us?"

"She knew before we started anything," I confessed.

Es snorted indignantly. "I repeat. What a trollop." She shook her head and headed to the sofa where she sat down gracefully. She swirled her glass making the ice cube hit the glass again and again. "So?"

I took a deep breath. "She's going to give birth to the child."

Es furrowed her eyebrows. "That sounds like she is giving it up for adoption afterwards." I obviously underestimated my wife, she was a quick thinker. But I had known that already, I simply… forgot. In all this I lost sight of my quick witted wife.

"She asked the doctor for an abortion but he declined. She's too far along."

Esme's face constricted in pain and slowly morphed to disgust. "She wanted to abort it?"

I shrugged, then nodded.

"Unbelievable." She shook her head. "You found yourself a real piece of work to fuck." She laughed drily.

I sighed. "Well, she never wanted any children herself. And before you ask, we used condoms. It was an accident."

She chuckled. "She didn't want any children, now she's pregnant although you used protection and she cannot abort it. If that doesn't sound like godly justice." She took a huge gulp from her glass. "Poor child. It won't grow up with either parents." She shook her head.

I gulped and closed my eyes. "It won't have to," I murmured. God, I was a horrible person.

She nearly squeezed her eyes shut when she studied me this time. "What are you saying?" She punctuated every word, venom clear in her voice.

"You state it like the child cannot live with either parent but it could live with me,… with us."

I lost count how often her mouth had dropped open this evening. "Are you serious?"

I crossed my arms over my chest and nodded.

"You cannot be serious! You want your bastard child to grow up with our children? You want me to raise this cuckoo's child?" She laughed cruelly. "No way." She shook her head to put emphasis behind her decline.

"Esme, I know I'm asking way too much. I know." She continued to shake her head. "But that baby does not have to grow up not knowing either parent. Maybe his mother does not want it but I… I could not live with myself if I gave up my rights like she does. I just can't."

She had tears in her eyes. "You mean you won't."

"Yes."

She gulped down the rest of her drink. "I hate you so much right now. I cannot even stand the sight of you." She started to cry. "But I also love you. And our children love you. How am I supposed to tell them?"

My heart dropped. It felt like I was one skipped beat away from having a heart failure today.

"Tell them what?" I whispered, too afraid to ask this question too loud, fearing someone might hear and give me the answer I didn't want.

She started to sob in earnest. The glass she had held, now empty, fell on the carpet. "How am I supposed to tell them that their father does not love me, us enough? That they now have a half-sibling because their father stepped out on us?"

I felt tears gather in my eyes. "Esme, you don't have to tell them. I can."

She quietly sobbed for some moments.

"No!" She groaned. "It will hurt them so much." She shook her head. "They cannot know. I don't want to hurt them like that. I don't want them to grow up feeling their dad somehow did not believe in us as a family."

I tried to stand my ground. "Esme, I won't give this baby up for adoption. I won't." I felt desperate. I was a selfish bastard trying to have the best from both lives I have lived.

"Why? I just don't understand how you could jeopardise your family like that," she cried, "please, help me understand." When she stared at me with her tear stained face, hiccupping, I felt my throat close up.

"You want to understand why I cheated on you or why I cannot give up this child?"

"Both." She looked so utterly defeated and broken in that moment.

I took a deep breath, trying to gather my thoughts. The answers would break her heart further, I really did not want to give them to her, but she deserved the truth. She needed the truth to make a decision herself.

I looked at the floor, shame rising in my chest, threatening to suffocate me. "I cheated because I was a coward. I wanted attention and you couldn't give it to me because Alec needed it more. I felt neglected and angry. This had not happened the other two times and I just did not understand it." She looked at me in disbelief. "It's not your fault. I should have talked to you, made you listen. You were just a good mother, focusing on our new-born boy. But I was feeling guilty that I wanted your attention more than I wanted our baby to be happy. So I took the easy way out." I dropped my head into my hands and closed my eyes. "I was an asshole and a coward. A horny coward. And I'm so fucking sorry but I can't take it back and now I have to face the consequences. If I gave this baby away…" I looked at the ceiling and then turned toward her again. "I feel like, if I give my baby away, that I punish him or her for my mistakes, that I somehow cheat on God as well. You're right, he was probably punishing us for what we did but I cannot look at that baby like that. He or she did not do anything to deserve this. Not a fucking thing. It's not even born yet." I started to cry. "How can I punish an innocent baby for my crimes?" I looked at her. She looked as distraught as I felt.

Then she looked down into her hands. "Okay," she whispered.

I perked up. "Okay?"

She hiccupped and nodded. "You're right. I… I am just so angry and hurt and… I don't know. I hoped I could forget this ever happened at some point but… you're right." Silent tears were rolling down her cheeks.

I swallowed. "You don't have to live with this, Es. If it's better for you to go our separate ways, I'd understand. You need to do what is best for you. I cannot ask that of you. I know I just did, but… it's not fair to you and I love you too much to do so."

"It's too late for that." She sighed.

 **AN: So here is the next chapter. I hope you enjoyed the ride so far. I hope to update next week. Trying to get a few chapters done before that. Also I will probably start writing another story about another fandom that I love to pieces. Dragonball Z. I just saw the new movie and was immediately swapped from my feet.**

 **-ClumsyBedo**


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